A Child Shall Lead Them (A Joe Burgess Mystery, Book 6)

by Flora, Kate;

“Then we started down the path.”

  “Do you and Fideau often walk the Stroudwater trail?”

  “Not often. We usually stay closer to home.”

  “You picked this place today because?”

  “Because I picked it. What difference does it make? I wanted to take the dog for a walk and this is where I decided to walk.”

  Burgess looked at Vince and quirked an eyebrow.

  “Was Fideau on a leash?”

  “You’re investigating a murder and you care whether my dog was on a leash?”

  “We try to be meticulous about details,” Kyle said.

  Burgess was amazed he could keep a straight face.

  “He wasn’t on leash.”

  “Let’s back up a sec,” Kyle said. “When you arrived at the parking lot, did you notice other cars there?”

  “Not really.”

  “See any other people heading for the trail?”

  “Nope.”

  “What about people on the trail? Did you meet anyone on the trail?”

  “Nope.” McCann seemed pleased with himself for his noncooperation.

  “How far along the trail were you when you stepped off to relieve yourself?”

  Instead of answering, McCann got belligerent. “When a man’s gotta go, he’s gotta go. You have a problem with that?”

  There might be a problem called indecent exposure, but Kyle wouldn’t raise that yet. “Just tell me what you did, Mr. McCann.”

  “I got off the path, pulled out my dick, and relieved myself.”

  Kyle didn’t take the bait. “How far off the path?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe ten feet.”

  The body had been about fifty feet off the trail.

  “At what point did you find the body?”

  “Didn’t find it,” McCann said. “Wouldn’t have. It wasn’t anywhere near the trail. That damned dog did. He ran off. Then he started barking. I called him but he didn’t come, he’s like that when he’s caught a scent, so I followed the noise and I found her and he was…uh…licking…”

  He put his hand over his face and turned away, still talking, “and I grabbed Fideau by the collar and dragged him back to the parking lot and called you guys.”

  As Burgess made a note about the licking, McCann shoved back his chair and stood. “And now you guys have had enough of my time and I would like my phone, right now, and a ride back to my car.”

  The fact that they were police had kept him here, sort of cooperative, this long. But he wasn’t under arrest. If he wanted to go, they had to let him go. Given his attitude, it was surprising he hadn’t made this demand sooner. Maybe there hadn’t been anyone in authority to make the demand to?

  There were a lot of things about his story that raised flags. They would definitely be digging in deeper, and likely talking to him again, but for now, Cary McCann was free to go. Burgess called patrol to give him a ride, and Kyle walked him out.

  When Kyle came back, he was shaking his head. “This guy is wrong, Joe. I don’t know how, but he’s got something to do with this.”

  Burgess agreed.

  They made a plan to meet in the morning and lay out the next steps in the investigation. Melia still didn’t look great, and Burgess was glad everyone was going home so their boss didn’t feel like he had to stay all night, supervising these all-important first hours. Melia probably knew his team would be coming back later, even though they’d agreed on morning, but Burgess thought he’d have sense enough to get some rest so he’d be ready in the morning when all hell broke loose with the press clamoring for details and Captain Cote sniffing around for the juicy details for his press conference. Sadly, this case had just the kind of details Cote loved.

  Seven

  Burgess called Chris to say he was on his way home. She sounded pleased, and surprised, when she said they’d wait for him. She said the kids were very excited. He took the guilt he felt at not spending these hours looking for answers for that poor murdered girl and tucked it away. It was a good trade-off. Spending this time with his family now would ease the guilt as he became immersed over the next few days.

  When he pulled up out front, they were waiting in the driveway, Chris smiling, Nina and Dylan bantering, and Neddy cavorting with excitement. As they climbed in, he was overwhelmed by their noise and sheer physical presence. As Kyle noted, he hadn’t raised them from babies, and was still getting used to having a family. He drove them to his favorite spot to watch the fireworks, a place known only to a select few, and parked. They all got out and stood in a row, leaning against the SUV, Burgess on one end, Dylan on the other, two big Burgess males bracketing the others. It was eerie how much his son resembled him, so much so he might have been cloned. It gave him shivers to think that if the boy’s mother hadn’t contacted him when Dylan became a curious—and surly—teenager, he might never have known he had a son. That his doppelgänger would have grown up in an entirely separate world.

  His timing was perfect. They’d barely gotten out when the sky exploded with the first burst of color.

  Chris moved closer to him and wiggled into her favorite spot, tucked right under his arm. As he watched their delighted faces, illuminated by the fireworks, he felt a stab of sadness that was almost physical, thinking about the happy childhood that girl out in Stroudwater Park had likely missed, and the fact that she would never see another Fourth of July. The rule cops were taught was to keep things at a distance and not get emotionally involved. But if you were human some cases got to you.

  Chris, who had an uncanny, and sometimes disturbing, ability to read his mind, said softly, “You’re thinking about your victim, aren’t you.”

  Could she really sense him drifting away? He pulled her closer. “I was watching all of your faces and thinking how great it is to have this family.” And that was the truth, too. She didn’t need to know about the ugliness out there this afternoon. It would hit the news soon enough. There were always leaks, no matter how careful they were. Kyle would have cautioned McCann not to discuss what he’d seen, but Burgess doubted that the man had much concern for anyone but himself. They’d also cautioned the man against sharing any photos he might have taken. As phones were becoming more ubiquitous, and people less inhibited, the photos people shared were increasingly having a negative impact on their investigations.

  He pushed the case away and lost himself in the magic of the night.

  Afterward, the kids clamored for ice cream, and he saw no reason to say no. They chose the place where he had first spoken with Neddy and Nina, back when they were foster kids out searching for returnable bottles. They had found some clothes in a trash can relevant to an investigation he was working and had the wisdom and decency to call it in. He wondered if they remembered. Whether, as they ordered and then waited at a table for their treats to be delivered, Nina remembered the boy who served them staring at her budding breasts, or Neddy recalled insisting on a double cone and then spilling much of it on himself despite his sister’s and Burgess’s efforts.

  That was the trouble with this city. Or with him. He’d been a cop here for so long there weren’t many places he could go that didn’t have some memory attached, and few of them were good. The streets were like a Monopoly board of crime, though the game pieces wouldn’t be houses and hotels, but knives and guns and drugs and tiny people beating on each other. He pushed those thoughts away and tried to enjoy his chocolate cone. Though he kept himself too buttoned up to enjoy many sweets, he loved an ice cream cone on a warm summer night.

  “Did you get any dinner?” Chris asked. “We brought home some food from Sandy’s. The kids ate a lot of it, but I saved you a couple burgers and dogs and some potato salad. I think she was glad you came even if you did have to leave early. Family is funny like that. Sometimes it seems like the most important thing is to lay eyes on you. Conversation is barely necessary.”

  “I’ll get it later,” he said, deciding not to mention Melina’s sandwiches. “I love your potato salad almost a
s much as I love you.”

  “Don’t get all mushy on me, Burgess,” she said, swiping at a drip of ice cream on his chin just like he was one of the kids. Her gestures still surprised him. He wasn’t used to being cared for. His job, and his life, had always been about caring for others.

  “Are you going back in after the kids go to bed?” she asked, still keeping her voice low so the kids wouldn’t hear. They were two teens and a tween, not small children, but they had challenges, especially Nina and Neddy, and she was still working on providing stability in their lives.

  “I have to,” he said. “I owe it to her.”

  “Was it very bad?” She leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “Very. I don’t want to tell you about it. Not yet.”

  “That’s okay. I’m sure we’ll hear about it on the news soon enough.”

  “You will. They’re going to love this one. It has a high gruesome factor.”

  “Oh no,” she said, and he knew she was thinking of his demons. The cases that haunted him. The dreams that wouldn’t stop coming. That sometimes pulled him awake from nightmare sleep, yelling and soaked with sweat.

  “I don’t think this is going to be one of those,” he said.

  After spending so many years holding back from relationships because of demons, his father’s and his own, he kept being surprised by how much of their relationship was unspoken. They read each other in the same compatible way that they slept together. In life, their minds were spooned, in sleep, their bodies.

  Burgess sometimes forgot to be grateful for the good things in life, but for this he never forgot. He might be a weary old flatfoot burdened by the most awful cases, but he came home to a good woman and happy chaos.

  So far. He knew what could happen to cop marriages.

  As they finished their ice cream and headed back to the car, Dylan said, “Dad, can I drive?”

  Dylan was taking driver’s ed, and was a careful and responsible driver, but the prospect of the day he’d climb into a car alone and drive away terrified Burgess. He’d seen too many bad results of that. But he couldn’t keep his son from growing up. He wanted to say “sure” and hand over the keys. If it had been Chris’s car, the answer would have been yes. but this vehicle belonged to city. It was probably time to get another car. A nice, safe boring car that Dylan could drive to school.

  “Wish I could say yes,” he said, “but this is not my car. We should look for a second car pretty soon. You’ll want one to drive to school.”

  “Cool,” Dylan said. “Thanks, Dad.”

  So Burgess dropped them off and headed back toward 109. He realized he’d never heard back from Remy Aucoin, and when he checked his phone, he found he’d turned it off during family time. That was a new one. His phone was so much an essential element of his life he was surprised it hadn’t grown attached, like a new body part. He pulled it to his ear and listened to Remy’s message.

  “Here’s the list, Sarge. Pile of rumpled dark clothes on the back seat floor behind the passenger seat, including what might be a raincoat. What looks like a dirty brown blanket with a lot of dog hair covering the seat. A pair of worn old sneakers. A box of plastic trash bags. Umbrella. A Sea Dogs baseball cap. An empty plastic water bottle and a metal dish, maybe to give the dog water. What looks like some magazines under the clothes, but I couldn’t see the titles. That’s about it.”

  Burgess wanted those clothes. The blanket. Those sneakers. But he had nothing that would justify a warrant. You can’t go after someone just because he’s an asshole. Not even if he has a bust for solicitation. He’d have to dig in deeper and see what he could learn about the man. It wasn’t uncommon for a perp to call in his own crime, just like it was common for fire setters to call in their fires or offer to help put them out. For now, he had the name of McCann’s employer, and the car’s make and model, a blue Toyota Prius, and the plate number. He could swing by the employer’s lot in the morning and see if those items were still in the car. If not? There was always McCann’s trash. Not so easy, maybe, if the condo dwellers dumped all their stuff in a communal dumpster.

  He hoped his days as a dumpster diver were over. There were youngsters for that. It was one reason God made rookies.

  He cruised by 109 and checked the parking lot. Kyle’s car was there. No surprise. They might have agreed to meet in the morning, but none of them would want to let another six or eight hours pass without digging into the case. The naked vulnerability of that girl, and the outrage done to her body, would have made it impossible to sleep anyway.

  He was just getting out of the truck when Stan Perry pulled in beside him. Perry bounced out of his ride with the youthful enthusiasm Burgess both admired and resented, and fell into step beside him. “Got something to ask you, Joe,” he said, and then fell silent.

  Burgess had no idea what was coming, so he stayed silent, too, waiting for Perry to cough it up.

  “It’s…uh…well, Lily wants to get married, see, and so I guess we are and…”

  “If she wants you to take some leave Stan, this is not the time. You know that.” He bit his tongue and didn’t add that they’d had months to get around to this, so a sudden decision didn’t make it an emergency.

  “It’s not that. Time off, I mean. It’s…we’re doing it a week from Saturday, and I was hoping you’d be my best man.”

  Burgess was speechless. Despite working closely together, he and Stan were at odds as often as they were at evens. Before he could stop himself, he said, “Why me?”

  Perry was silent again. They walked toward the building, the only sounds their footsteps on the concrete and the background hum of the city. Finally he said, “If I pick my dad, my brother will be jealous. If I pick my brother, my cousin will be pissed. If I pick any of them, my best friend will have his nose out of joint. You’re the perfect solution.”

  “The guy no one can be jealous of ’cuz I’m your boss?”

  “Kind of.”

  “But not because I’ve been your firm but caring mentor all these years?”

  Perry burst out laughing. “That’s exactly why, Joe. Because you represent the man I’m trying to be.”

  Now it was Burgess laughing. “Grouchy. Perpetually irritated. Impatient. A man who doesn’t suffer fools or bad guys gladly. A lonely old bachelor still floored by the acquisition of a family. This is what you want to be?”

  Perry grinned. “Definitely floored by the acquisition of a family.”

  “Are you sure I’m the man for the job?”

  “Lily wants it, too,” Perry said.

  “Thought Lily didn’t like me. Doesn’t she believe I’m your mean boss who is always coming between the two of you and forcing you to cancel your plans? Aren’t I the guy who applies too much pressure and is too demanding and just generally a mean-spirited jerk of a boss?”

  “She does think all that. She also thinks you’re a good role model for me. And…uh…there’s also this. She thinks if you’re standing up with me, I won’t bolt and run.”

  “Best man and jailer? I’m so flattered.”

  They reached the door and Burgess punched in the code.

  As they started up the stairs, Perry said, “So, will you do it?”

  “How can I refuse such an appealing offer?”

  “So say yes. Then I can call her and tell her it’s all set.”

  “Yes.”

  They joined Kyle in the conference room that had now become their work room. Kyle was already pinning the first round of Dani’s pictures to a board. Evidently, like the rest of them, Dani couldn’t go home to Fourth of July festivities and leave it until morning.

  In the center was an enlarged map of Stroudwater Park showing the trails, with the site where the body had been marked in red, with the distances from the parking lot to the spot where whoever dumped the body had left the trail, and from the trail to the dump site recorded. There was another parking lot farther along. That distance hadn’t been measured. Burgess assumed that there
were officers sealing that end as well.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Kyle said.

  “What doesn’t make sense?” Burgess asked.

  “To take the body so far from the trail. Most perps would just go a little way into the woods and dump it. You’ve read the literature. At night, people always think they’ve gone farther than they really have.”

  “She wasn’t dumped,” Burgess reminded him.

  “Displayed. But who was the display for? For us or for someone else? Was it an ‘in your face gotcha’ to the cops or a warning to someone?” Kyle said. “And if it was for someone else, why choose that spot? Did those woods have some particular significance or was it just the killer knowing that the story, with all its ugly details, would be heard by someone else who would understand what it meant?”

  He stared at the map. “Maybe there are other girls who are being turned out by the same person? Maybe it’s a warning about what happens if they get defiant?”

  “Or a warning to customers who’ve use that spot to keep away,” Burgess said. “We need to go back and look again. Learn more about that site. See if there are trails leading into that clearing that we missed. If we missed something obvious about the site because we were so focused on finding evidence. Same with the path Remy marked out with his tape. Did he create a new path or follow an old one? I’ll do that. I’m going back out there as soon as it gets light.”

  As usual, the more they talked, the longer the list got. “We need to talk to Remy about what he saw when he first got there. Can you do that, Terry? And we’re only assuming it was done at night. Someone’s going to have to be out there to interview regulars, to get a sense of the flow of people and when they tend to appear. We don’t have time to do that ourselves, so Stan, maybe you can talk to patrol?”

  He told them what Remy had seen in McCann’s car. “Might be nothing. Might be something. I could swing by there on my way to Augusta. Dr. Lee wants to do the autopsy at ten.”

  “I can check McCann’s car,” Kyle said. “You want one of us with you in Augusta?”